


it's easy to lose yourself i know

by allthempickles



Series: left in the dark [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Birthday, Birthday Cake, Character Study, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Clothing, Crying, Cupcakes, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drugs, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Hallucinogens, Hotels, Humor, Identity Issues, Light Angst, Original Character(s), Sad, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Trauma, reclaiming identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-12-18 15:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthempickles/pseuds/allthempickles
Summary: He rented a shitty little room in a motel across the city from the mansion. It’s on the edge of the city, where tall buildings bleed into skinny little houses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to Beth for yelling at me on discord and encouraging me!!!
> 
> Title from and fic loosely inspired by In Between by Beartooth. Part of a series, so it may help to have the context of part 1. It's optional though, do what you want haha.
> 
> Little editing. Soz. Don't have the mental energy.

He rented a shitty little room in a motel across the city from the mansion. It’s on the edge of the city, where tall buildings bleed into skinny little houses. Nothing beautiful, but the place has a television and the staff leave him alone. They have one bed. Ben doesn’t sleep. He just follows Klaus around and oscillates between smiling into the hood of his jacket and brooding.

That’s the thing. Klaus knows that Ben is trying to hide his smiles, and he doesn’t really get it. Once you’re dead, why deny yourself happiness? When Klaus dies, he’s going to throw a rager. Everyone’s invited: Freddie Mercury, Kurt Cobain, Van Gogh. He would invite Diogenes, that crazy fucker, just for laughs. Klaus takes a drag from his uh... jazz cigarette... imagining the party. What was he thinking about again?

Klaus himself is smiling more. Yeah, he’s fucked up on all sorts of drugs nowadays. And maybe he has nightmares. And maybe he is running out of money. Maybe. But you know what? That’s all technicalities. Above all of that, there’s an overarching feeling of relief.

They made it! They escaped that hell-hole of a house. Escaped all of that loneliness and indifference. Unfilled space.

Today is their birthday. Eighteen. Full-grown adults. Klaus has stayed mostly sober today, wanting to be able to celebrate with Ben. He’s just a little stoned after a joint or two. It’s a little smoky and it makes his eyes feel hot and dry. Klaus coughs and waves his hand around to disperse the smoke.

“You could open the window, you know.”

Klaus looks over at Ben where he’s sitting across from him on the bed. They both have their legs crossed, criss-cross applesauce.

“And let the motel staff know the,” Klaus leans in to stage whisper, gesturing with the joint still in his hand, “less than kosher activities I’m partaking in?”

Ben huffs.

“Yeah, as if they actually give a shit what you’re up to in here.”

“Fair point,” Klaus mutters. 

He sticks the joint between his lips and gets up, floating over to the window. The blinds prove to be a surprisingly effective obstacle. His hands are cold and a bit numb. It takes a bit of fumbling with them too get them to open. Is he supposed to twist this rod? Pull this string? Finally (finally!) he gets the blinds open by tugging one of the strings. It scrunches up on one side while the other still hangs down. Fuck. Whatever.

He checks all around the window hands fluttering. Even under the blinds, which fall back into place with a smack. Nope. No luck. He grabs the joint back out from his lips.

“Ben, the window doesn’t open.

“Too bad.”

Klaus looks out of the window.

“Ben, someone is watching me.”

The man is staring in, eyebrow raised slightly. Klaus smiles and waves. Always nice to make a good impression. Then he reaches over to pull the blinds closed again. The string seems to get caught, and the blinds crash down, lopsided, with a crash.

“Oh fu-” Klaus breathes out.

Good enough. He sashays back to where Ben is sitting and grabs a plastic bag from the dinky little desk.

“So,” he says, sitting back down on the bed, “It’s our birthday! Yay!” He claps, pulling a face at Ben. Ben, who looks wholly unimpressed. Well then. Klaus reaches into the bag and pulls out a little box.

“I got us little mini cupcakes. Sugar galore! And it’s just for the two of us.”

Klaus opens the box and displays the little cupcakes to Ben.

“Et voilà! So much icing, you’ll never want to eat a cupcake again.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but Klaus sees that he’s fighting to smile. Nice. Wait..

“Can ghosts eat?”

Ben reaches out and grabs a cupcake and, holy shit, it works.

“Yes, fucko.”

Klaus raises his hands up in surrender and grabs a cupcake of his own. A little chocolate one with mint green icing. Perfect little sculpted peaks. He peels the little wrapper off and stuffs the cupcake in his mouth. It’s so chocolatey and he groans, rolling his eyes back exaggeratedly.

Ben grimaces and kicks at him. His foot goes through Klaus’s arm. Klaus picks up his next cupcake and starts to lick the icing off of the top.

“Ew. Gross.”

\---

Klaus is splayed out across the bed, zoned out. Ben sits on top of the desk, flipping through a little booklet placed there by the motel.

Klaus flops his arm out and his hand hits the TV remote, knocking it off the nightstand. It’s too quiet, and Klaus doesn’t want to think about the others celebrating so far away from him and Ben. He doesn’t really want to think about them at all.

“I think we should get new birthdays.”

Ben shoots him a look.

“Get new birthdays.” He repeats. He sounds skeptical.

“Yeah. I’m going to change my birthday.”

Ben is quiet for a long time, and Klaus is scared for a moment that he’s going to get upset. Is Klaus being ungrateful? Maybe Klaus was the only one who felt wrong in that household. Is he the only one who felt hurt, wronged, out of place?

“I still want to share a birthday with you,” Ben’s words are whispered. For a moment he sounds like his shy younger self and all Klaus can think is, oh my god, we are still so, so young.

Ben still wants to share a birthday with him. With Klaus! Because that’s what he means, right? They’re going to pick a new birthday together.

“Hell yes! We’re going to have our own birthday. Just the two of us…” Klaus beams at Ben as he speaks, words coming a mile a minute, “so what day are you thinking? I was thinking like… sometime in May.”

“That makes us older than everyone else.”

“Well duh,” Klaus says, “We can’t make ourselves younger! We just turned eighteen, you can’t un-turn eighteen.”

“How about May 22.”

“I love it. Look at that, Ben! We just turned eighteen and five months!”


	2. Chapter 2

It doesn’t stay as sweet as those cupcakes. Klaus finds raves, and thus more drugs. Figures out how he can get them for free, or real cheap.

He tries X for the first time at a rave. A girl is talking to him and gestures to indicate placing something on his tongue. The music is loud, pounding in his ear drums; he can’t understand what she’s saying. He’s a few drinks in and the noise makes his chest feel like it’s caving in.

He doesn’t know what it she’s offering, but he’ll try anything. Anything if she’ll give it to him for free. He opens his mouth and lets her place the pill on his tongue.

I’ll take what I can get. I’ll take what I can get.

\---

The first time Klaus takes LSD he can hear a symphony in his head. Endlessly building and crumbling in his ears. His world is a shepard tone, endlessly stretched out. He thinks he can hear Diego and Vanya whispering to him, but he can’t make out the words. It goes on for eternity.

The next morning he wakes up after hours of terrible, terrible sleep. All he can remember is being stuck between wakefulness and sleep, dreams and hallucinations mixed together. His eyelids feeling sticky against his eyeballs, and he slowly pries them open.

Ben is knelt over him, hand hovering over his face. There are trees behind Ben. Klaus must have ended up crashing outside. His brother’s eyes are red, and there are tear-tracks on his cheeks. It takes a moment, but Klaus eventually places the look on Ben’s face as fear.

He should say something. Ben shouldn’t be worrying about him. He should say something, but he doesn’t know how to tell Ben that there will be a next time. Suddenly it’s like a black hole has opened up in Klaus’s stomach. He wants to shout, he wants to fucking vomit. Why is Ben still here?

“Why are you still here?” He croaks out, and god, that’s embarrassing; it’s almost a sob.

He hates being on the ground, splayed out and vulnerable. He wants to roll up as tight as possible. He doesn’t want to be seen. He turns his head, refuses to look Ben in the eyes. Who gave Ben the right to look at him like that? Klaus hates the pity and the worry. This isn’t sad or pitiful or weak, this is a logical means to an end.

“Leave me alone,” he screams, but his voice breaks and squeaks on the words, “leave me the fuck alone! Leave me alone!”

Klaus cries in the empty park, screams and hears the way his voice rattles and cracks.

Ben doesn’t leave. Klaus hates him a little bit.

\---

He’s going back to that thrift shop. He got his favorite shoes there, and he has a little bit of money; enough to buy something before he spends everything else. He wants something new and nice for himself. Something to prove to the world that he’s still alive in here.

“Yeah fuckers! I can still enjoy things! I’m still kicking!”

He’s muttering to himself, and Ben gives him a questioning look. Klaus shifts his gaze across the street, not wanting to answer the unvoiced question. 

Grey, grey, grey. The whole city is grey. It’s darker outside than the last time he came here. A low hum permeates the air, thick and heavy. A storm is coming. Klaus hurries up, tripping over his feet a little in his rush to get inside.

He’s a little drunk, but not too many drugs in his system. Out of the worst part of the comedown, and he only smoked a joint this morning. Usually he wouldn’t care, but Ben was grumpy this morning. And, for some reason, he didn’t want to get kicked out of this store. Maybe it was just the kindness the cashier showed him the last time he visited.

The shop is coming up right before he intersection with Maple Street. He inspects the shop front as he gets closer, paying more attention this time around.

It’s small. The windows have the same rag-tag mannequins as before. They’re dressed in 80’s-esque fashion, fanny packs and hates and strange scarves. The sign above the door is chipped and worn. “Maple Street Thrift”. Okay. Not the most inspired name, but apt.

Klaus opens the door, and it jingles violently when he pushes too hard. Oops. He steps in and holds the door for Ben.

It’s the same person as before manning the register. They watch as he holds the door and then lets it slowly swing shut.

“You came in before.” They speak.

“Yeah.”

“Who were you holding the door for?”

“Ben.”

They look confused for a moment, face scrunched up, but quickly relax again.

“Well, welcome back!”

Klaus nods, shaking his head a bit too quickly, and stumbles off to the opposite side of the store. They probably think he’s a nut-job. Well, c’est la vie!

He floats around, looking at the shoes along the wall. Thing is, he doesn’t really know what he’s looking for. He stops at the dresses and runs his hand along them. Soft, rough, sequined. They’re all so pretty. And tiny. He grabs one of them off the rack, peering around as he does. All clear. He bolts to the little curtained changing room.

He shimmies off his jacket and tugs his shirt off. Catching his image in the mirror, he pauses for a moment. He looks skinny, gaunt, caved in. Patchy skin and dark circles under his eyes. It doesn’t blend well with the eyeliner in this lighting. The bright light just makes him look sick.

He sighs and shakes his head, and then blows his reflection a kiss.

“I know you’re doing something stupid in there.”

“Shut up Ben,” he hisses. He grabs the dress off the hanger and pulls it on over his head, not bothering with peeling off his pants.

It takes a lot of squirming to get it one, and he almost panics when he gets stuck at one point. The dress is way too short on him, and barely fits around his rib cage. Uncomfortably tight, he would say.

“Shi-”

“So.”

The voice startles him and he jumps and spins, arms quickly raised in front of him. He’s half expecting spectral arms to come reaching through the fabric of the curtain and grab him. The voice continues.

“So, you from around here?”

“Well, why do you ask?” Klaus questions, voice airy.

“Just curious.”

Klaus pulls the curtain back and pokes his head out.

“I am. How did you know?” the shopkeeper is half leaning on a rack, and now Klaus can see that they’re shorter than him. He sighs and shakes his head as if remembering something, “yes, I grew up just a little ways away from here. A modest-”

Ben barks out a laugh, cutting off Klaus’s train of thought. Klaus turns to glare at him. Jerk.

“I just moved here about a year back. I’m Mar.”

“Klaus.”

“Klaus, I have a dress that will fit you better than the one you oh so sneakily- uh- snuck- into there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not totally happy with this. for some reason writing his interaction with Mar was... really hard. but i'm not gonna let myself be a perfectionist. here ya go!

**Author's Note:**

> //apparently may 22 is world goth day???
> 
> I'm in a bit of a block lately. Please yell at me in a friendly manner for more!


End file.
